


The Chosen Ones

by Laura_McEwan



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-01
Updated: 2005-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:31:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_McEwan/pseuds/Laura_McEwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui-Gon insists and Obi-Wan submits. For the 2005 jedi__santa gift exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chosen Ones

**Author's Note:**

> Written for angelee79912 for the 2005 jedi__santa gift exchange. Thanks to elke_tanzer for beta reading, and to Ghostwriter for the prompts of 'elderberry', 'an ancient leather tome', 'Obi-Wan naked and tied up', and the words 'Do I not please you?'

The air pressed cold against Obi-Wan's skin, waking him from an unexpected sleep. He started when he was unable to open his eyes, and then realized he was blindfolded. He tried to reach out with the Force, but the Force wouldn't respond to him. He felt gooseflesh rising and his nipples tightening in apprehension as well as from the cold. Completely unaware of his surroundings, he turned his head slowly from side to side. He listened intently for any sound that might suggest someone was there, someone was coming, someone, anyone, to free him and tell him where he was and why.

He tugged at the bonds about his wrists. His arms had been lifted over his head, suspended from somewhere above him. Another strap held him fast around his torso. From the roughness against his bare back, he perceived he was tied to a tree; the bark scraped him when he shifted his back muscles, and he sorely wished he could lower his arms and lie down. His legs moved restlessly against the ground as he squirmed on his bottom for a more comfortable position, dirt and gravel insinuating their way into exposed crevices. He rubbed the back of the blindfold against the tree trunk, hoping to loosen it, but a knot held it fast.

Silence reigned, and he tried to mark the passing time somehow. Counting, singing, reciting: silent but measured elements he could use within his mind that would help him focus on anything but the pain in his arms and shoulders, and the fear gathering in his chest that he'd been left here to die, a Jedi trophy for someone's gruesome collection.

His head jerked up, rapping painfully against the tree. He'd fallen asleep again, but the sound of slow footsteps crunching against sand and stone breaking the perpetual silence brought him back from his dreams, incoherent dreams of darkness and danger. "Who's there?" he said, assuming what he hoped was a confident and not-fearful expression on his face. "Who's there?"

His visitor said nothing, but instead pulled Obi-Wan's head forward by twisting his hair with one hand while fingers roughly yanked the knot loose and dropped the blindfold from the Jedi's eyes.

Obi-Wan blinked into the light, light that was either fading or rising; he couldn't tell yet. Against the sun, a figure loomed: tall, imposing.

Familiar.

"Obi-Wan."

The voice was unmistakable, but the tone was not.

More figures gathered about the tree, all dressed in dark cloaks, their faces hidden, silent.

The dusty toe of a boot pushed at his leg. "Obi-Wan, you disappoint me. Greet me properly."

"Yes, Master. Hello, Master." Obi-Wan's voice pitched low, while his eyes sought out Qui-Gon's. What was happening here?

"Much better." Qui-Gon leaned over him, drawing one finger slowly down Obi-Wan's cheek, followed by a light buss of lips. "Play along, Padawan," he whispered, so softly Obi-Wan almost didn't hear him, as quickly as Qui-Gon drew away.

"Farin." Qui-Gon reached out an imperious hand, and one of the hooded figures stepped forward, respectfully offering a thick, leather-bound book. The cover was worn in spots, with drooping corners, apparently well-used and well-revered, if how Farin handled it was any indication.

Qui-Gon held the book flat in both hands, and bowed to Obi-Wan. "Let us begin."

Begin what? Obi-Wan thought wildly. A cold wind began to blow, the oppressive silence changed to the keening of turbulent air passing through the tree branches overhead. Clouds gathered, a menacing black and gray, tinged about the edges with the orange and pink of a now-evident sunset, and a low rumble of thunder could be heard from a distance. Night approached.

Qui-Gon held the old book over his head and cried out staccato words, words of a language Obi-Wan did not recognize. Qui-Gon's hair flowed over the back of his cloak, the ends whipping about his face. A flash of lightning lit his features, and Obi-Wan suddenly felt a pull of attraction that he'd tried to largely ignore in the past.

Gods, he was beautiful.

Obi-Wan wrested against his bonds again, shamefully aware of his cock rising to his belly and a desperate wish to hide it. The next flash of lightning showed Qui-Gon's face clearly, his eyes staring intently at Obi-Wan. In one motion, Qui-Gon flicked off his cloak and stood before Obi-Wan, naked but for his boots and beautifully erect, body glowing and shadowed with every strike of electricity around them.

"M-master?" Obi-Wan croaked, but Qui-Gon merely stood, as if waiting.

Another of the hooded beings stepped forward, offering a black feather that threatened to fly away in the storm. Qui-Gon took it and twined it into the tie that held back the hair from his face, never releasing Obi-Wan from his gaze. He raised his arms into the air.

"I am Choro-Chorun. Black Feather. I am the Chosen One." A theatrical rumble of thunder followed this pronouncement.

"Ch-chosen for wh-what?" Obi-Wan chattered, shivering in the cold. He drew his knees up to his chest in an effort to preserve some body heat. His erection began to wilt in the breeze, but he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

"You are Choro-Pandi. My Chosen One," Qui-Gon announced. Lightning flashed and his blue eyes glittered. A spike of lust shot through Obi-Wan at the sight, and his cock stiffened again. Silently he cursed his lack of self-control.

Qui-Gon turned to the assemblage. "This is my apprentice. He is whom I choose. Together we will break the Romatti Curse."

Romatti curse? Obi-Wan wondered. What is he planning? He racked his brain trying to remember the mission parameters—and realized with a jolt that he remembered nothing since leaving Coruscant—how long ago?

Yet another figure stepped forward, holding out a small clay pot. Qui-Gon accepted it, dipping a finger in and kneeling before Obi-Wan, straddling his legs. He smeared the liquid on his finger across Obi-Wan's lips, then pushed his finger into Obi-Wan's mouth. The taste was bitter and sour, but seemed to be from a berry of some kind. He was reminded of elderberries; similar, but not quite. Qui-Gon's finger stroked against his tongue, then turned to do the same against his hard palate, a lazy, gentle swipe, as a lover's tongue would.

Qui-Gon withdrew, dipping his finger into the pot again. This time he marked Obi-Wan's cheekbones, then circled his nipples, moving down his body until he reached Obi-Wan's cock where it stood swollen, twitching at Qui-Gon's various touches.

Long, elegant fingers, fingers so familiar in their calluses, work-worn and strong, wrapped about Obi-Wan's cock, stroking slightly, painting dark streaks that in the intermittent light looked eerily like blood.

Obi-Wan gasped at the touch and tilted his pelvis to raise his bottom partially off the ground, restrained by the torso strap from moving very much. Qui-Gon tossed the pot aside and waved one hand behind him, sending his entourage back several meters, still watching.

"Obi-Wan," he whispered, leaning forward so his lips barely touched Obi-Wan's, "I'm going to guess you don't recall anything. The Choruns fed us a potion of some sort to cause some memory loss. When I saw you begin to fade out, I recognized symptoms in myself and made a concerted effort to purge it from my system." He reached down to stroke himself, pressing close to Obi-Wan so that their cocks slid together. Obi-Wan watched, fascinated, as their pink skin glowed in the light of another bolt of lightning. "I pretended I had been affected and have since followed their lead with what they expect of me. They believe we can break a curse. You represent that curse."

He nuzzled beneath Obi-Wan's ear, causing Obi-Wan to gasp and drop his mouth open. "I need you to follow along—I may have to get rough. Fight me—it may be best that way, so they don't doubt my sincerity or your struggle."

He moved to Obi-Wan's other ear, still pulling at both their cocks. "I apologize in advance if I hurt you, Padawan. I don't even know if you prefer men or women—are you a virgin?"

"Yes," he answered breathlessly, pulling at his bonds again, wanting to be released so he could touch, too. "But I've seen plenty."

"Damn," Qui-Gon murmured, bringing one hand up to circle a painted nipple into a nub. "We'll talk more once we're out of here. For now, just try to resist. Kick at me now."

Obi-Wan did, swinging out one leg in an attempt to knock Qui-Gon over, who caught himself before falling.

Menacingly, he rose, stepping behind the tree and releasing the torso strap. He folded it in half twice and walked slowly back to stand before Obi-Wan, slapping it lightly into his palm.

"You will rise." He stared pointedly down at Obi-Wan, one eyebrow quirked in expectation.

"No," Obi-Wan answered breathlessly. "I do not wish this." He held his grin in check as Qui-Gon winked briefly in approval at his resistance.

"You have not been offered the choice." Qui-Gon snapped the strap in his hands. "Rise."

"No."

Qui-Gon reached down and bodily lifted Obi-Wan in the air, standing him forcefully on his feet, Obi-Wan's arms falling limp before him, weak from their extended time over his head, swinging against the slack in the straps that had held them up. Qui-Gon twisted him around to shove him against the tree and held him in place severely by the neck. "You will obey me."

Obi-Wan struggled convincingly against that strong hold, his heart racing when he realized what Qui-Gon was preparing him for. The need for surrender to his master—this wild, harsh master—made his desire for him even greater. Obi-Wan heard the swish before he felt the first strike. The strap cracked twice against his buttocks, much harsher than he'd expected and he cried out, a cry that was quickly stifled by fingertips pressing into the sides of his throat. His cock throbbed, trapped and pinched against the rough bark. Obi-Wan tried to move his hands to protect it. "No!" he choked, shamefully aware that the pain of the whipping had only hardened his cock further. "Stop!" He realized then, if he really were hurt, Qui-Gon might not realize the difference between following his instructions and sincerity.

Qui-Gon stroked the edge of his thumb gently against Obi-Wan's nape, a touch familiar and reassuring to him as a padawan, but 'Choro-Chorun, the Chosen One', ignored Obi-Wan's pleas. After three more rather vicious strikes, Qui-Gon yanked him away from the tree, pushing him to his knees. His aching shoulders were jerked over his head again, and he moaned.

Qui-Gon rubbed the end of his cock roughly against Obi-Wan's lips. "Open."

Obi-Wan obeyed slowly, squinting his eyes shut to express displeasure, although the act itself was anything but repulsive. How often had he dreamed of doing this very thing, offering his tongue and tasting his master in such an intimate manner? The heat from his buttocks and the straining of his own cock ramped his adrenaline levels as he tried to resist sucking hungrily at the hot, hard skin filling his mouth.

Qui-Gon twisted his fingers into Obi-Wan's hair to aid his thrusting, tugging the strands to a deliciously tight pain. Obi-Wan risked opening his eyes to look at his master, sucking harder at the glorious sight of Qui-Gon, eyes closed in pleasure, mouth partially open as his hips pistoned. The feather in his hair had slipped sideways, and bobbed with every thrust. Obi-Wan inhaled the musk of Qui-Gon's groin, moaning again.

With a sudden shove, Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan backwards onto the ground, narrowly missing the tree trunk. His legs flew out from under him, and Qui-Gon pulled himself from Obi-Wan's mouth as he fell. A cry of pain was ripped from him as his shoulders wrenched in their sockets, arms pulled violently above him.

"What's the matter, Choro-Pandi? Do I not please you?" Qui-Gon demanded sarcastically, noting the sudden wilt of Obi-Wan's cock in the face of such deep pain, nudging at it with his boot. He beckoned for some of the hooded figures to come closer. "Cut him down," he ordered, a crash of thunder accentuating the menace in his voice while leather was cut through and wrists released. "Now hold him.

Four beings each took a limb and held him by wrists and ankles, splaying Obi-Wan into utter vulnerability on his back. Qui-Gon knelt astride him, wet cock shining with every flash. "Again," Qui-Gon ordered, this time settling himself above Obi-Wan's face, setting a new rhythm as he pumped into Obi-Wan's mouth, his arms braced on the ground above Obi-Wan's head.

Obi-Wan tried hard not to choke; this angle sent Qui-Gon's cock deeper into his throat. He couldn't breathe, and frantically tried to communicate such to Qui-Gon, but his master seemed far too into the sex act to realize his struggles. Dimly, he wondered what this act looked like from the point of view of his captors, to see Qui-Gon's ass clenching as he shoved his cock in and out of Obi-Wan's mouth.

Finally, he let his mouth go slack and his eyes close, feeling relieved when he felt Qui-Gon pull away. He didn't expect the slap that followed.

"Wake up!" he heard yelled in his ear, and he gasped in a breath of air and opened his eyes.

If he didn't know and trust his master, he'd swear this man was a stranger.

Qui-Gon motioned, and Obi-Wan was flipped unceremoniously over, face down into the dirt and gravel. He was lifted partially to his knees, his whipped and burning buttocks pried apart with rough fingers. He cringed, waiting for the ripping entry that he knew Choro-Chorun was about to impose upon his body.

But a small warmth tingled through his bottom, a softening and easing of the passage about to be violated, though his buttocks still burned from the strap. Qui-Gon hadn't forgotten; Obi-Wan allowed a small sigh of relief, disguised as a sob.

Still, this small Force touch wasn't enough to disallow all the pain. A scream ripped from his throat as Qui-Gon grasped him about his hips and plunged in, once, twice, three times. A hand fumbled about Obi-Wan's groin; Qui-Gon took his cock and stroked him back to hardness before resuming a slow slide in and out.

Obi-Wan felt himself respond, trying to pull away from the grip of his captors in order to push back onto Qui-Gon's cock, suddenly desperate to feel every sensation, pain and pleasure both. This was his master, of whom he'd dreamed so many dreams only to awaken wet and sticky, and alone, or shamefaced from sleeping next to Qui-Gon on some tiny transport. He was hardly aware of the rain that began to pound against his bared skin, so intent he was on his goal, a mindless frenzy of motion, such that his captors let go and merely stood watch as the two men roared their passion and pushed their bodies together and apart, skin slick and slippery as the skies opened above them.

Their intimate struggle had carried them across the ground, Obi-Wan practically crawling as every push from Qui-Gon's body sent him further along, knees and hands grinding into the small gravel below. At some point he noticed the clay pot, kicked over by their frantic motions. The red coloring spread into the ground, marking the place that Obi-Wan had submitted to his master.

Obi-Wan panted as his climax neared. With one hard push in, Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon squeeze his cock, pulling him off rapidly, and Obi-Wan collapsed as his come spurted from him. Qui-Gon jerked above him erratically, tensing and shouting, and at the moment Obi-Wan felt the pulse of Qui-Gon's cock in his ass, an explosion threw them both tumbling into the air to land painfully twisted against each other on the gritty, wet ground.

Amid the scent of smoke and the flicker of flames against their bodies, they lay panting, still intimately connected, too exhausted and stunned to move. Obi-Wan did a quick review of his body for any significant trauma beyond the most recent inflictions, while Qui-Gon grunted beside him, shifting and slipping his cock free of his apprentice.

Some meters away the tree to which Obi-Wan had been tied was now a mass of flames, a lightning strike making a spectacularly fiery end to it, smoking and hissing as the rain began to douse it. The blast had tossed their audience as well, and Obi-Wan could see them struggling to their feet, making their way to their curse-breakers.

"Master, are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked, slowly raising to his knees and running his hands over Qui-Gon's body for any real damage. "Tell me quickly; those people are on their way over."

"I'll be fine, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, resting one arm over his eyes to protect them from the rain. "Just let me—catch my breath. Knocked wind—out of me. Are you—all right? Did I—hurt you—before?"

Obi-Wan gingerly sat back on his heels, wincing. "Yes, but not much. And still no Force power; I can't feel you on our bond."

Qui-Gon peeked out from under his arm and raised his other hand to touch lightly at the bruise near Obi-Wan's eye. "I am sorry for that. I'll explain everything once we're dry and alone."

Obi-Wan nodded and bent his neck into a submissive posture, shivering in the rain as the wind blew cold against his wet skin, waiting as his captors stumbled up to them. Qui-Gon directed them to raise them both to standing, but prevented them from tying Obi-Wan's hands together again.

"We have served our purpose. Your curse is broken. Take us to food and shelter." He handed them the bedraggled feather from his hair, proof of a curse broken, in exchange for his singed cloak, which he pulled around them both for something of a shelter even though it was soaked from having been lying in the rain.

Obi-Wan wrapped an arm about Qui-Gon's waist within the cloak, leaning his head against his chest as Qui-Gon pressed him close. This felt more like the master he knew, protective and loving. Food and clothing first, and perhaps some medical attention, and then a talk. A long talk.

"Master?" he whispered, turning his head up to look. "It wasn't so bad, in the end."

A rumble of amusement vibrated through Qui-Gon's body. "Good. We'll talk about that later, but…" he stopped walking for a moment to look into Obi-Wan's eyes directly. "But, I want you to know—I was greatly pleased—and pleasured—this night."

Obi-Wan's body tingled, his buttocks even more so, as one corner of his mouth turned up into an impish grin at such an admission.

"So was I, Choro-Chorun. So was I."

_~end_


End file.
